


Mix Tape

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Making Mix Tapes, Stora, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bastille, Foster the People...For God's sake woman, Justin Bieber?"</p><p>Cora's mysterious disappearance has left her hopelessly behind on the times. When she can't recognize any of the Beacon Hills boys' favorite bands, that fact becomes distressingly obvious. Stiles thinks it's up to him to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mix Tape

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Stora Week! It's not my best work, but I had to do something for this delightful pair.

"C'mon Cora, seriously? You've haven't heard of Vampire Weekend?"  
"Nope," she answered, rolling her eyes at Stiles.   
"How about Cage the Elephant?" tried Scott. They boys had been trying the past few minutes of study hall to judge where Cora stood with modern music and culture.  
"Never."  
"Okay, rapid fire round: The Neighbourhood, Mumford & Sons, Fun.?" As Cora steadily shook her head no at each mention of a band, Stiles grew more frustrated. "Bastille, Foster the People...For God's sake woman, Justin Bieber?"  
"I told you," she replied slowly, "I was isolated for six years. How could I have heard any recent music?"  
"Speaking of your little extended vacation, where were you all that time anyway?" Stiles regretted asking his question as soon as he saw the pained look that had clouded over Cora's face. She was becoming his good friend over time, at the very least he hoped, so he was sometimes more casual with her than he should have been with someone who had to live on her own at age 11 after her family died.  
"Well, it certainly wasn't vacation," Cora said, smirking back at Stiles, looking like her confident self once again. "I didn't have access to music, internet, you name it."  
"You poor soul." Stiles shook his head in exaggerated horror. "You are so hopelessly behind on matters of great importance to your young adult life. We have to fix this."  
Scott chuckled at his best friend, nodding in agreement, but when the bell rang to signal the end of class, he quickly gathered his belongings and glanced toward the door.  
"I want to stay and help educate Stiles educate you, Cora, but I've got to run my mom her dinner. She works a double tonight." Cora nodded at him while Stiles saluted.  
"I get it dude, duty calls," he shouted after Scott as he left the room. Cora had been enrolled at Beacon High ever since the Alpha Pack was dismantled, and spent most of her time with Stiles and his friends. Therefore, he was becoming more comfortable being alone with the intimidating werewolf, but sometimes she still made him nervous. Today wasn’t an exception, and as the classroom quickly emptied of students, Stiles felt the urge to babble needlessly in reaction to it just being the two of them in the room.  
“I’m serious about this mission, Cora,” he said quickly. “I can’t let you go another minute being ignorant to the indie-rock musical masterpieces of the early 2000s. Something must be done.” Cora raised her eyebrows at him and led the way out of the classroom into the hall.  
“And you think you have the responsibility to teach me because…”  
“Because I have a chemistry test tomorrow I really don’t want to study for. I need a distraction.”  
“That’s all I am, Stilinski? A distraction?” They arrived at Cora’s locker then, and after she deposited her books, she turned back to face him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “If I’m going to spend the day with you, I’m going to need a better reason.”  
“You’re not just a distraction…I mean, that’s only one small part of why I want to help you.” He leaned closer to her, smiling at the sly expression that crossed her face. “I want to help you because…quite honestly, I can’t be associated with someone who asks ‘What’s a Kanye?’ like you did yesterday.”  
Cora rolled her eyes at him, pulled on the jacket she had retrieved from her locker, and gestured for Stiles to follow her as she walked toward the parking lot.  
“On second thought,” he continued, “I think we’re going to skip the rap genre for now. And bypass dubstep all together. We’ll start with alternative today, and plan future lessons later.”  
“That’s very presumptuous of you to think you’re getting multiple dates with me,” she countered.  
Stiles did a double take as she chuckled softly.  
“This..this is a date?” he asked.  
“You want it to be, right? We can go to the loft. Derek’s usually out when I get home, most likely screwing someone who looks like Jennifer to torture himself.”  
“That is a whole bunch of information I don’t quite know how to process.”  
Cora shrugged and made her way over to the passenger side of Stiles’ Jeep.  
On the brief ride over to the Hales’ apartment building, Stiles resumed his evaluation of where Cora’s musical knowledge stood. It was, as expected, tragically outdated, so Stiles began to mentally plot which of his favorite modern songs he would play for her from his laptop.   
Once he pulled into the lot outside their destination, Stiles nearly leapt out of the car and walked briskly to the building’s lobby.  
“You’re sure Derek’s not home? I mean, my intentions for this afternoon are pure, but it might be a little weird if he sees us hanging out one-on-one,” he said hastily. Cora ignored him, knowing he had no reason to be afraid after she confirmed that her brother’s scent in the building wasn’t fresh. He must have left the apartment hours ago, and she knew he didn’t have any reason to come back soon. She was still adjusting to living with her brother again after he thought she’d been dead for years, and because they were both naturally curt speakers, they didn’t exactly have lively conversations to bring them together.  
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” Cora asked when they entered the loft, peeking into the fridge and various cabinets around the kitchen area. “Never mind, we seriously only have beer, chips, and white bread. I think that’s tonight’s supper, so we’d better not deplete our supplies.”  
“I guess our next lesson getting you readjusted to society will be going grocery shopping,” Stiles proposed jokingly. “I know supermarkets were invented very recently, are ultra-modern, and can be oh so confusing.  
Cora turned to him and hit him in the arm more roughly than he expected, but still without as much force as he knew she was capable of projecting.  
“I’d be careful if I were you; the possibility of date two is looking bleak,” she muttered.  
“Let’s jump into date one, then!” Stiles reached into his backpack and pulled out his computer. “Where shall the enlightenment take place?”  
“Bedroom. I want to relax after today; high school sucks.”  
“Angry rock music could’ve warned you of the horrors of young adult education.”  
“I don’t think any songs could have prepared me for nasty school lunches, catty cheerleaders, or Calculus,” Cora sighed, collapsing onto her bed in the room just off the kitchen. As she lounged behind him, Stiles placed his computer on her desk and took his time putting together a playlist he thought she’d like. Once each carefully chosen song was queued, he pushed play and sat rigidly on the bed beside Cora, hyperaware of how alone and close they were.  
“You can unwind, you know. We’re in my bed, unsupervised,” she added with a scoff, “but I’m not going to jump you.” She patted a space on the bed, urging him to lie down. He held her gaze for a few moments before kicking off his sneakers and sinking back into the bed. Aided by the soothing, brisk guitar strums of the first music selection, Stiles was able to relax enough to recline next to Cora on his back. After a minute or so, he brought his hands up to rest under his head and tuned to see how she was enjoying the song from a missed time of her life.  
Cora was already looking at him when he turned to her. She gave him a half-smile before looking up to the ceiling.  
“Thanks for doing this, Stiles,” she said quietly. “It means a lot that you care enough to help me try to reclaim bits of society that I missed.”  
“Yeah…no problem,” he stuttered, overcome by her sudden shift in mood.  
“Maybe one day I’ll tell you where I was, but until then, thanks for not pressuring me.”  
After that statement, Stiles Stilinski, who was usually so talkative, had absolutely no response. He nodded even though he knew it was silly; she wasn’t even looking at him. As the song came to a close, Stiles realized the next one was a pounding, energetic piece, and wouldn’t be ideal for them to listen to while being in such a serious mood. Therefore, when the music changed, Stiles grabbed Cora’s hand and pulled her up to stand with him before he even really knew what he was doing.  
“Stiles…” Cora began, but before she could say anything else, he grabbed her other hand and started to flail and jump around doing what very few people would qualify as dancing. Although she gave him a startled, bemused look, he danced on, determined as ever to get her moving as well. Stiles grabbed Cora’s hand and led her in a series of spins.  
“Stop,” she barked, and for a moment Stiles thought she was actually mad at him. He froze and dropped her hand swiftly. “Your spin to any other move ratio is way off,” she explained with a small smile, “but you kept to the beat surprisingly well.”  
“I’ll do much better this time. Thank you for the critique,” he responded, smiling widely at her. He took her hand again and soon they were shaking and only very occasionally spinning all over the room. Stiles was leaping around on the bed at one point, and Cora even slid on her knees once, imitating the performance of a sick guitar solo. As the song built up to a climax and a loud, pulsing finish, Stiles dipped Cora low in his arms in a classic move surprisingly dissonant from the rock tune.  
“That was fun,” Stiles said, catching his breath. “But I’m not under any illusion; we probably looked like idiots.”  
“We’re so dumb!” Cora nearly shouted, doubling over in laughter so sweet and mesmerizing, it took Stiles a while to realize he’d never heard her laugh before. When she started to quiet down again, Stiles, with courage that came from seeing her let her guard down, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a hug. Her response was a bit delayed, but soon enough, she hugged him back tightly.  
“Cora,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head. As if on some cue given by the universe, the next track in the playlist began. It was a slow, sensual song with wildly suggestive lyrics. The song must have caught Cora’s attention, because she pulled away from the hug to stare up at Stiles, and then lower her gaze to his lips. He needed no more encouragement than that.  
Stiles cupped his hands around Cora’s face and pressed his lips firmly to hers. She gently grasped his wrists, locking his grip into place. Stiles didn't have a lot of kissing experience logged, but everything felt so natural with Cora. He didn't feel the pressure to impress her or the anxiety over maybe screwing something up. It was as though he had plotted every movement, every kiss, before he actually executed it. Cora gave her approval of his methods in the form of soft sighs and moans. She released his forearms only after guiding them down to her lower back. He squeezed her tightly against him and, feeling what was behind him by kicking his foot backward, lowered himself onto the bed, directing Cora to straddle him.   
As he worked his fingers through her hair to rest his hands on her neck, only then did Stiles’ become aware of his developing hard on, and he hoped to God that this day, one of the best experiences of his teenage life, wouldn't end in a classic case of blue balls. Cora noticed how physically pleased he was, and started to slide her hands down his shirt to the waistband of his pants when the heavy front door of the loft started to slide open.  
“Derek, shit!” Cora yelped, climbing over Stiles and off the bed to rush over to the mirror in her room, desperately trying to flatten her mussed hair and cool her flushed cheeks.  
“No, no, no,” Stiles muttered, looking around for something to cover his obvious erection with. He grabbed a pillow off the bed and sat up straight, facing the open doorway and bracing himself for Cora’s terrifying older brother to enter the room and deduce what had been happening.  
“Cora?” Derek called from somewhere in the loft.   
“I’m in my room,” she responded, throwing Stiles a warning look, like he needed one. He wasn’t about to admit to the terrifying former alpha wolf that he had been about to receive a hand job from his younger sister.  
As Derek entered the room, he stopped short at the sight of Stiles.  
“Hey Derek, old buddy, old pal,” Stiles greeted awkwardly.  
“We were just listening to music for school,” Cora lied. She knew it wasn’t a convincing explanation, but it was all she could think of.   
“Huh,” Derek said, obviously not buying it. He finally noticed his sister’s disheveled hair and that Stiles was holding a pillow firmly over his lap, and his confused expression morphed into a murderous one. He looked at Cora and pointed toward the kitchen and the door leading out of the loft.  
“I think Stiles should go now,” he said, straining to keep his voice level. The teenager threw the pillow across the room and darted past Derek, stopping only to wave goodbye to Cora.  
“I’ll call you,” he shouted as he grabbed his backpack and excited the apartment.  
“You’d better!” she yelled after him. She rolled her eyes at her brother and pushed her way past him out of the bedroom.  
“C’mon, Der,” Cora drawled. “We’re hanging out tonight.”  
“What?” he asked, following her to the apartment door nevertheless.  
“You’re taking me shopping. I want a music player, one of those iPond things.”  
“That’s not what they’re called, Cora.”  
“Shh, this is brother-sister bonding time,” she said, looking serious as she touched her brother’s arm. “Don’t ruin it.”


End file.
